The Risks We Take
by Pozagee
Summary: After third task. Harry and Severus end up together in the Hospitol Wing. No slash. Very OOC, but not in a bad way.


"I HATE YOU ALBUS DUMBLEDORE! I HATE YOU!" was the shout that woke Harry up. Despite it being late at night, the Hospital Wing seemed too bright, bringing the pain back to his sore body. And then the memories...

The last four hours crashed down on the sickly boy. The Third task, the Portkey, Voldemort's resurrection, Cedic's death...

"Poppy, please-"

"YOU SENT HIM BACK! YOU SENT HIM BACK TO THAT HELL!" the Mediwitch's voice echoed. Harry raised his heavy head a little, barely being able to make out the forms of Madam Pomfrey and Albus Dumbledore without his glasses on. Harry felt as if he was miles away, with how their voices drifted.

"You know I had-"

"I don't care, Albus. I just want to know why!" Poppy sounded as if she had been screaming, her voice hoarse and scratchy. Harry could also sense her hurt and tears.

Dumbledore sighed. "You know why, Poppy," he said simply.

She choked back a sob, not saying anything.

"And you know I didn't want to do this to him. You KNOW."

Poppy sighed heavily as she straightened a bed cover. "Yes. I know."

There was a long silence, where Dumbledore sat at a small table drinking tea and Pomfrey cleaned up the Hospital Wing. Harry relaxed into the bed, feeling as though his muscles had finally unwound.

"How long has be been gone?" the Healer questioned. Harry had been listening to the conversation, true, but he was now actually paying attention. He wondered who they were talking about...

"Too long. Nearly two hours." The room seemed to stiffen, tenseness emanating from its inhabitants.

"If he is gone much longer-" Dumbledore started, only to be interrupted when the Infirmary doors swung open to reveal a slightly disheveled Severus Snape.

"How'd it go?" Dumbledore asked worriedly, as Snape limped slightly as he walked further into the room.

"As well as can be expected." At Dumbledore's and Pomfrey's looks, he elaborated. "He was displeased I was late. But I am welcomed back in. Yippie."

Pomfrey touched the man's arm, making him flinch. Sighing, she asked, "And where are you injured?"

Snape glared. "I have no skin level injuries that I know of. But... I may need some Post-Cruciatus serum."

Pomfrey nodded, going over to the potions cabinet. Meanwhile, Dumbledore settled Snape down into a bed beside Harry. Said green-eyed boy quickly pretended to be sleeping.

"How is he?" Snape questioned, almost gently.

Dumbledore sighed. "Not good. Ill, probably from a mixture of nerves and overexertion earlier. Seems he has hardly ate over the school year, again, due to stress. Add that to the injuries, both physical and mental, that he received tonight, and he is quite unwell."

Snape sunk down into the bed next to Harry, muscles and bones popping as he stretched his taught muscles. "Do you want me to stay here the night for him?" he questioned Dumbledore.

Poppy scoffed. "Severus, you are to stay here the night for YOU." The man nodded, as he reclined in the bed.

Harry opened an eye slightly, seeing his professor's worn face, hollow eyes, and pale complexion.

Harry was no idiot, though some would beg to differ (namely, Snape). He knew that Snape had just gone to Voldemort to report. As a Death Eater.

But Dumbledore and Pomfrey knew that as well, and they were concerned. The way Dumbledore talked, it seemed as though Snape was almost a spy on Voldemort for him...

Harry figured that had to be the worst job possible.

Pomfrey had returned to Snape's side, helping him to drink a icy blue potion; the one he had had to drink earlier.

After drinking the potion, Snape's muscles unwound, and he relaxed into the bed. "Thank you, Poppy."

The Mediwitch nodded. "And now for a haircut?"

Snape didn't even bat an eye. "Don't try my ever-waning patience, woman."

Pomfrey chuckled, before making her way to her office.

Dumbledore settled down in between Snape and Harry's beds, looking over both of them sadly.

"Albus-"

"Rest, Severus. We will talk soon, all right?"

Snape sighed. "Yes, sir."

For a while, Dumbledore just sat there, looking old and tired. Eventually, he stood and left, leaving his two hurting boys asleep...

'The Dreamless Sleep wasn't strong enough,' Harry thought, as he awoke again an hour later screaming. His memories of waking up earlier were blurry, and he wasn't sure if what happened was real or not. But as he looked over to his right, sure enough, Snape was there...

And looking at him wide-eyed.

"Oh! I'm sorry Professor, I just had a nightmare-I didn't mean to wake you-are you all right- I wasn't sure-" Harry cried shakily and rapidly.

Snape then did something Harry never expected him to do: He moved over, allowing Harry to crawl into the bed with him.

It was a foreign gesture to the boy. 'This was what parents do for their children-what Aunt Petunia did for Dudley, but never me.' And yet, Snape was allowing him to crawl into his bed like a small child.

Snape.

The man who hated him.

The man who HE hated.

And yet... Harry wobbly made his way over to the bed, crawling under the thick sheets. It was only after Snape pulled the blankets up around him that Harry realized how cold he had been-how much he had been shaking.

Snape gently, though with an undertone of awkwardness, wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder. Harry laid stiffly for a second, before allowing himself to burrow into his professor's side.

"...Thanks..." he whispered softly, as he brought a had up to rub his aching eyes. Not surprisingly, though Harry felt that way, his had cane away wet with tears.

"Are you all right?" Snape questioned, quietly.

"Yeah, it's just... I was so scared," Harry admitted. That in itself showed how tired and emotionally distressed the boy was.

Snape didn't ask why he was scared, because it was fairly obvious. But he did give Harry's shoulder a squeeze, and held him close as the boy drifted to sleep.

A little while later, Harry wrapped his arms around Snape's neck, surprising the still-awake man. But what shocked him even more was the word he whispered.

"Dad," Harry smiled softly, though glistening tears leaked from under his eyelids.

Snape made a choking sound, as he rubbed his best friend's son's back. "It's all right. You're safe now."

Someone cleared their throat. Looking up, Severus found McGonagall, Pomfrey, and Dumbledore standing at the end of his bed. All had sad, almost teary, expressions on their faces, noticing their usually stoic colleague's tears.

No one said anything that night, nor after. Harry forgot what his Professor did for him, perhaps due to the potions. Maybe due to prompting. But Severus never forgot.

He never forgot the moment the boy stopped being Potter in his mind and started being Harry: The bravest little boy he ever knew.


End file.
